


welcome to the melting pot

by kristin



Category: The Unusuals, The Wire
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:03:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristin/pseuds/kristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because that wasn’t just any clown. That was Schrager all dolled up like she was getting her Gacy on. Fucking New York. Why his wife felt the need to move the family up here was beyond him. And oh, he had sure as fuck agreed, needed to get away from the department that still associated him with McNulty’s fuckup, but this- this was too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	welcome to the melting pot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elynross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynross/gifts).



> Thanks to lan and ff for not laughing in my face at the idea of this crossover, but mostly to elyn for making Yuletide so awesome year in and year out.

“Now, tell me I am not fucking seeing things here,” said Bunk, staring at the holding pen. Was that a fucking contortionist? Whatever the fuck she was, she was twisted all around a with a mustache that put Delahoy’s to shame, the ends curled up in an exaggerated bow. And that was definitely a clown over talking to Walsh.

“Fucking hell,” he said. Because that wasn’t just any clown. That was Schrager all dolled up like she was getting her Gacy on. Fucking New York. Why his wife felt the need to move the family up here was beyond him. And oh, he had sure as fuck agreed, needed to get away from the department that still associated him with McNulty’s fuckup, but this- this was too much.

Bunk heard a soft throat clearing behind him and preemptively winced. He knew what was coming. “I would really prefer it if you-”

“Shut the fuck up, Cole,” said Bunk. No fucking swearing in a precinct. What the hell were they going to think up next? Hell, the whole fucking police department was probably sick of it. Now, the Bunk could hold back his words if need be, but here the needs didn’t fucking be.

“You aren’t seeing things,” said Delahoy, ignoring the back-and-forth. Like he was some sort of expert. “If you really saw, you wouldn’t need to say anything.”

“Now that was deep, my man, really profound,” said Banks. Bunk looked at him, but he couldn’t tell if he was joking or sincerely was that far up Delahoy’s ass.

“What was profound about that? That was a simple statement,” said Delahoy, offended. So, Banks had meant it then.

“I think you are missing the point here,” said Bunk, to no one. Or maybe every-fucking-one of these freaks. “This place is fucking nuts.”

“So you keep saying, Baltimore,” said Delahoy, drawing out the syllables of the city name.

Bunk just shook his head. There was fucking circus equipment scattered around the room. “Now, I know from fucked up, and this-”

“Language,” said Cole.

Bunk just glared. “As I was saying, this is some fucking ridiculous shit here. I mean, I knew New York was freaky, but this shit is just not on.”

“No, your problem is you got spent too much time working on murders. Death is always pretty straight forward," said Delahoy, not making any sense.

Sure, some murders were simple. There was a lot of hate in the world and most of the time it just lashed out a caught whomever was closest in its lethal undertow. Lots of junkies who poured poison into their body with delight, the sad motherfuckers, with deaths spiralling out in a result, but then there were _murders_. Cases that made you think and made your mind sing even as you grumbled out loud about the overtime you had to put in. Those were the cases that made Bunk happy to be murder police.

"Now, see, I want to say that is profound, but you're just just gonna give me hell for it," said Banks, clearly not paying any attention to the internal affront Bunk had taken. That was their problem here, too interested in fucking banter. Now, the Bunk liked shooting the breeze as much as any brother, but this shit was over-the-top.

"I wouldn't do that," said Delahoy, mustache twitching in such a way as to indicate, yes, he would.

"He really wouldn't. I mean, look at that face," said Walsh, grinning down into his coffee cup. And why the fuck was he even sticking his nose into this. What they needed here were some walls. Even the thin fake cubicle wall would do. Fucking modern open floorplan bullshit is what this was.

"OK, that was profound," said Banks. And was he really not a fucking rookie, falling for that? For fuck’s sake.

Delahoy was grinning, clearly pleased even as he railed. "Why would you say that? You've been adding that to everything I say these days. Am I your guru? Your spirit guide?"

"I think you would have to be dead to be a spirit guide," said Shrager, piping up while not even glancing away from where she was applying clown makeup using her monitor as a mirror. This fucking department, seriously.

"Well, that's just fitting," muttered Delahoy.

"Shut. The Fuck. Up." Bunk could not take another light-hearted back and forth. This had to fucking stop. He held up his hand and pointed to Cole, cutting him off with his mouth already open. "I know, I need to watch my fucking language, you little bible thumping cocksucker."

"Thank you," he replied, voice sincere. Bunk had heard those words from a great many liars in his day, had even doled out a few fake ones of his own, he didn't mind admitting. But even with his highly honed bullshit meter he couldn't believe it.

Bunk just stared. "You're thanking me?"

"You acknowledged there was a problem, which is one of the first steps along the road to change," said Cole simply. Motherfucker even smiled, a bright white grin like this was some happy day made better by Bunk cussing him out.

Bunk just dropped his head to his desk. He never should have left Baltimore.


End file.
